Escapee

I observe the woods that surround me, see the immense yet skeletal trees. I am dwarfed, I am caged. I spin on the spot, the multitude of branches above me turning into a hypnotizing mandala. The air is brisk, and when I breathe out a trail forms from my mouth. A gale hastens my spin, and I totter, stop, hug myself as I manage to balance myself. I look at the rags that hang from what has become my meagre frame, the holes in my shoes, the holey gloves I might as well do without. I rub my hands on my arms. The skin that peeps out from clothing reacts to feeling other parts of me that have also been bared, and surprise tingles as the temperature emanating seems to be coming from a corpse. I mustn't stop moving. I look around me, trying to let my instincts choose a path that may lead me to safety. A howl breaks out from a distance behind me, and as a shiver crawls up my spine, I know exactly where to go: away from the beasts. I run as straight as I can, dodging trees, breathing easy despite my malnutrition. Everything seems surreal as it speeds past me, the trees shimmering away and appearing at the last possible second so I may not run into it. Tears trickle from my eyes, and I cannot yet believe the cost I have bought liberty at. A howl escapes me, and whatever creature had been far behind me replies in response. I decide to let it's voice merge with my own, and as I do, the silent forest seems to awaken. The forest echoes my pain, and I its own, and you cannot tell the difference between human and animal, animal and flora, flora and human. I do not know whether to be terrified, or elated I have finally found company of sorts. So I keep running, ceasing my lament, until the noise falls back behind me, until the new silence is broken by a deafening roar. When I reach the banks of what appears to be an infinite river, a new wave of despair overwhelms me, drags me onto my knees and then onto the fertile earth. I do not cry, my suffering trapped inside, too large to escape me in any way. So I breathe hard, taking in the smell of dirt and dry grass, trying to calm myself. If I was allowed to escape, surely I wasn't meant to die here, lost - alone? It is too late when I snap out of the thoughts that had absorbed me, when I react to the growl coming from my side. I only have time to snap to a sit when I am thrown onto my back, my arms pinned to the ground, a heavy weight sitting on me. "Who are you, stranger?" A voice hisses a handwidth from my face. I realise I have been found by a human. My first reaction is to try and free myself from whoever is atop me, but I soon realize I am outmatched. The face that looms smirks. "Don't even try, weakling. Now, answer me: who are you?" "Get.Off." I squirm, breathing made hard by the person's weight. "Answer me." Says the voice in a placid tone. "I have no name." I reply, lying. "Is that so?" Mild amusement tinges the voice. "And where do you come from, oh Nameless One?" A squeeze on my wrists warns me to answer, quick. "I escaped the city." "You don't lie." I suddenly see the gray sky above me, and air rushes into me. I jump to a stand, search for the knife I kept in my sleeve, realize it's missing. "Looking for this?" I realize that the one who had held me captive is a man, skin camouflaged with mud. He grins, and from his hand the bleak light flashes off of my knife, my only weapon. I try to hide my defeated expression, to find an escape route. "Don't bother trying to run away," he says, as if reading my mind. "All I have to do is call out, and you will be tackled by others like me. So you will do as I say, and you will come with me. Are we understood?" "Fine," I answer, spitting in his direction. His eyes flash with rage and in a second he is holding me against him, my own knife against my throat. "I could kill you, weakling. Easily, with no regrets. Do not tempt me." His voice is terrifying, and I do not doubt his words. Yet the confinement of his threat makes me struggle, and it is only the knife's edge that freezes me again. When he sees that I am ready to comply, he lets go, and makes me walk in front of him, the knife pointed at my back, pushing me into the direction I need to walk to.